Memories to Forget
by hoshiww
Summary: x "She saw his face and the rest was history." Sometimes forgetting is better than remembering. One-sided HermioneXTom.


**Memories to Forget**

TITLE: Memories to Forget  
TYPE: One shot, challenge  
CHARACTERS: Hermione  
GENRE: romance (slight angst)  
SUMMARY: _She saw his face and the rest was history. _Sometimes forgetting is better than remembering.

* * *

_Strephon kissed me in the spring,  
__Robin in the fall,  
__But Colin only looked at me  
__And never kissed at all._

_Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,  
__Robin's lost in play,  
__But the kiss in Colin's eyes_  
_Haunts me night and day._­­

— _The Look_, Sara Teasdale

* * *

Hermione sighed. She had a very chaotic week. Not only were the Slytherin Heir and his Monster on the loose, she had to deal with an overreacting school, a rather long detention session, and a clammed-up Ginny Weasley. 

She had found the first-year Gryffindor pouring over a tacky, tatty, old diary, scribbling to her hearts content. However when she walked over nothing was written on it. She was about to leave, thinking that Ginny was being silly and writing in invisible ink, where only the writer can see, when slowly words mesmerized out of no where. Somehow, the words on the page didn't fit with what Ginny was writing.

_"I advise you, in the game of survival, to keep away from the Slytherins. In the meantime, tell me more of this Harry Potter of yours."_

Immediately, Hermione brain clicked. Her quick mind brought all the pieces of this puzzle together. The diary was magical, and had a mind to by the looks of it. It also lusted for information about Harry Potter. That can only mean one thing. This diary possessed magic in the form of the Dark Arts.

At that time, she had snapped at Ginny for carry such an object around with her, and pouring her soul, heart and mind to it. She already knew that Ginny loved Harry, she knew that Ginny was sensitive on the topic, she also knew that this diary was a matter not to be taken lightly. Herimone had her ordered to bed and snatched the diary away.

Herimone sighed again as she examined the black diary before of her. She took a quill and dipped it into some blue ink before opening the diary and started to write.

_What are you and to whom do you belong? Are you the cause of Ginny's distress?_

Her neat writing lined the blank page. She waited for a response. Slowly the ink vanished, only to be replaced by another set of writing.

_"I am a diary, carrying the memory of a student who attended Hogwarts. I belong to Tom Marvolo Riddle. And I wouldn't call it a distress."_

Hermione's eyes flashed, a menacing look swiftly passing her features. _Then what?_

_"Something to do with her heart, and to which I swore secrecy."_

Eyes narrowed, Hermione tried to solve the more immediate danger. _You know anything of Slytherin Heirs and the Chamber of Secrets?_

_"I'll show you."_

Suddenly the diary rose and faced her, the pages turning until the right date showed. Hermione made a quick mental note of it, before the diary seemed to absorb her.

Here she found herself standing in a corridor of Hogwarts. Trying to get her bearings, she was quite lost. She turned a semi-circle and came to stop in front of a handsome man, some years older than her, his hair seemed to shine, his eyes would bore right through her and to which she would remember years later. It seemed he could read your every thought, see your heart's intentions and saw Hermione as for the girl she was, not as an encyclopaedia on legs. Mesmerised Hermione could only stare back, before being jolted back into the present, or rather past, as Tom walked through her. Suppressing that gasp, she turned and followed, taking in tiny details of the figure ahead of her. The way his cloak swished, the way his Prefect badge gleam, the way he scanned every surface, as if being suspicious of the walls.

Suddenly he stopped, and Herimone stepped right through him. She saw his face, staring at the scene before him, and the rest was history.

* * *

_"He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?  
__He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.  
__I shook his hand and tore my heart in sunder  
__And went with half my life about my ways."_

—A.E. Housman

* * *

"RON!" 

Herimone stared at the retreating back; a feeling of hopelessness sank to the bottom of her stomach. Searching and destroying Horcruxes was hard enough with three people, but when one person storms out in such a temper, it was now excruciatingly difficult. Especially if that person was someone close to you. Herimone stayed silent for the rest of the day, quietly mourning to herself.

Night descended. It was Hermione's turn to look after the locket and keep watch outside. She held the locket in her fist, squeezing it tightly and wishing this had never happened. Her knuckles turned white as she remembered her second year, the year in which she fell in love with Tom Riddle.

Ironically, he was her enemy. The one who she loves dearly is a threat to her life, a threat to her friends' lives, a threat to most people's lives. She can still clearly remember those sharp blue eyes, radiant black hair, seemingly to light up from within, the pale skin and the line of his jaw. She vividly saw the cloak, the very folds of it, the green prefect badge hanging from the black work robes on the left, the way his hair swept his neck.

But she could never be Riddle's lover. He wouldn't love her. He'd hate her, for being a Mudblood, for being sorted into Gryffindor, for her friendship with Harry Potter. Besides he was right now fifty years older than her. He wouldn't be interested in such a petite, bushy-haired, know-it-all Gryffindor.

But why had she fallen in love with Riddle in the first place? She never believed in love at first sight. She believed in the inner beauty. Intelligence, wit, kindness, humour were only some of the qualities she admired. Obviously the Riddle nowadays, Lord Voldemort, had absolutely none of these. He was merciless, cruel and coldhearted, something to which don't appeal to anyone. Except Death Eaters. But they had the same qualities; they wouldn't mind someone like that.

She didn't want to kill someone she loved. Hermione was a practical girl. If that person were dear to you, why would you want to destroy them? You would want to keep them whole, unharmed. But what she was doing now was beyond her logical thinking. But she had vowed to avenge Dumbledore's death and end this reign of fear caused by Voldemort. By Riddle. By the one she truly loved. How could he be so evil, she did not know.

She didn't realise that tears were trickling down her cheeks. So much was on her mind, throwing her into turmoil. At first it seemed so far-fetched that they could stop Voldemort, she just let it go. Hermione wiped the tears away and let go of the locket.

It would not do to let herself be possessed by a figment of Riddle's soul. It would not do to let Harry do the work by himself. It would not do to let Dumbledore and everyone else down. She had to think of others. People benefited more if she was against Voldemort and an alley of the Light side.

Why couldn't she have everything she wanted? Of course she can use the Time Turner to go back in time, but she then had to calculate the many hours and the many turns she needed to spin. That would take quite a long time, even by her standards.

Hermione jolted into reality. She needed to control herself. She reined in her emotion, stopped her inner fight and kept her senses alert. She scanned the trees and the skies above. She got up and walked around the tent, evening checking that Harry was still asleep. She did everything she could to keep her from straying into her memories.

Calm and watchful, Hermione returned to her post in front of the tent. She held the locket in her hand, staring at it intently, as the stars reflected off the smooth, golden surface. Hermione could see her face, twisted and elongated, in the light of her wand. The snake bent into a 'S' shape glittered ominously, reminding her of the dark times she is living in.

Hermione breathed deeply, smelling the wild blueberries and the strong scent of damp leaves. She heard the faint hooting of owls, the flapping of wings and the soft melodies of a nightingale. She felt the canvas of the tent behind her back She saw the stars above twinkling like they didn't have a care in the world. Looking at the locket in her hand she made a decision.

She let the locket fall from her grasp and hit her chest.

She decided to let go.

To stop remembering her memories

To stop loving Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

**A/N**: This is a challenge fic, set by my friend. Uhh, yeah. You can tell from the little info-y bit above. This is also my first one shot! 


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